


Refuge

by ponderinfrustration



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux
Genre: Comfort, Cuddling, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 14:06:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8716774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ponderinfrustration/pseuds/ponderinfrustration
Summary: She is all he needs, and when she holds him close nothing can harm him.





	

Being close to her is enough, more than enough. It is all he craves, now, to lay down with her arms around him. In his mind’s eye he sees his nerves, frazzled like wires but at her touch they ease, wind themselves back together as they ought to be. She kisses his forehead, her lips rose-petal soft and he can't help but smile, warm peace slipping through his veins, soothing the aching of his heart.

She is here, truly. Here beside him, her arms wrapped carefully around him. It is all he can do to keep the tears from burning his eyes. His Christine. His wonderful, beautiful, dear Christine. She is too good to him, has always been too good to him.

He whimpers, or makes some small noise, or must because because she shushes him gently, holds him a little tighter.

“It’s alright, Erik,” she murmurs, voice low, soft as silk. “It’s alright, I’m here. You can rest now.” She nuzzles into his hair, lips soft against his scalp. “Just rest.” Rest. Sleep. He is dimly aware he has not slept in three days. There was the music, then the nightmares. Is that why every muscle, every bone is so heavy? Is that why there is the aching hole in his heart? It must be, though the hole does not ache so very much now, has dimmed with her arms around him so that it is very nearly not there at all.

He sighs, and nuzzles deeper into her breasts. They have never interested him, not in _that_ manner, but they are so soft. _She_ is so soft, and so safe, and sleep tugs heavy at his eyes, another sigh slipping from his lips. Her fingers brush the shell of his ear, come to rest on his shoulder. He is safe, with her. Safe and warm, and as he drifts, the darkness pulling him under, he catches the words she breathes into the night.

“I love you.”


End file.
